


World's Finest, a Relatively Quick Tangent: "Gimme a Break, Guys"

by smokingbomber



Category: Young Justice (Comics)
Genre: Friendship, M/M, Seriously Old Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-02-13
Updated: 1999-02-13
Packaged: 2018-03-12 05:53:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3345977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smokingbomber/pseuds/smokingbomber
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kon and Tim have been dating -- and shacking up -- for a while, and they've been thinking they've been hiding it from Bart. They've been thinking he'd be scandalized. But this is 1997! And he's from the /thirtieth century/. The only thing he can't handle is their lack of faith, in spite of everything they've all been through together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	World's Finest, a Relatively Quick Tangent: "Gimme a Break, Guys"

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [World's Finest](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/98111) by Keirythwyn Jade. 



> From back when TS (tinysex) (AKA cybersex on TinyMUSHes) was an unthinkable crime; written somewhere in 1999/2000 as an aside to Keirythwyn Jade's _World's Finest_ series (found at http://www.offpanel.net/kerithwyn/Finest.html) while it was in progress. I'm aware it's preachy and terrible and narratively all over the place, but it's old enough that I'm not interested in rewriting it.
    
    
    Disclaimer: I don't own Impulse, Superboy, or Robin. The
    Robin/Superboy couple idea was nabbed shamelessly from Kerithwyn
    Jade, and I'm not doing anything nasty, just expounding. Also, PAD
    deserves a beating about the head and shoulders for treating Bart
    as a running gag. (And I deserve a beating for that pun.) Anyway,
    I'm not making any money off this; I don't claim the idea as my
    own, except for Bart's reaction; I doubt anyone but me would wanna
    write Bart like this anyway, but I'd really dig it if I did, so
    I'm not even putting a copyright to that. Rarr. Just be aware I
    wrote it, and everything. I'm shutting up now.
    
    
    World's Finest, a Relatively Quick Tangent
    "Gimme A Break, Guys"
    Starring: Impulse and the Superboy/Robin Kinda-Gestalt
    Dedicated to GlockGal! and
    Written by Vesper "I Wanna Write Comics Someday" Antagonist
    
    
    	They think I don't know, but grife, I'm not stupid. I'm
    not blind. Sure, I'm hyper - I've got lightning in my DNA and
    sugar in my bloodstream, whaddya expect? And 'course I'm easily
    distracted. I mean, there're so many cool things all going on at
    the same time, I've got to pay attention to all of 'em at once.
    They think that means I won't notice. They think that all of that
    together means that even if I did notice, I wouldn't be able to
    figure it out.
    	But I'm not four to *me*.
    	When I got here I looked - what, fifteen? That's what Max
    said. He said to write down that I was fifteen. Sure, I said.
    Fif*teen*. I knew I was two, I knew that intellectually. But I
    didn't feel two, and I sure didn't feel fifteen. I don't know what
    it was, but it was a whole life I spent in VR, back in the
    thirtieth century. It was a whole life, and I sure wasn't just
    two.
    	So I'm small. So I still look like a little kid compared
    to Superboy. I'm still taller than Robin, sprock it. He's what,
    five feet tall? I dunno. I don't care. I'm not a baby, even if
    they're sure I am.
    	Babies wouldn't notice what they're doin'.
    	I notice.
    	I bet they don't think I see 'em sneakin' off, I bet they
    think I don't know what they're doing. If they thought I'd catch
    'em at it and know what was going on, they'd be a little more
    discreet. Not that I care. I just wish they...
    	I wish they trusted me more.
    	I wish they treated me less like a kid, more like their
    friend.
    	Not like they haven't got enough friends of their own,
    right? Or that I haven't. Carol and Preston and Rolly, and the
    whole bunch from Manchester, all of 'em. And when he comes back in
    time, Brainiac 5 is my friend, too. And Arrowette's my friend too,
    I guess, even though since the group started back up she hasn't
    really paid any attention to me.
    	But...well, geez. We've been through enough stuff together
    and come out on top, you'd think they'd notice I'm not just a
    Marshmallow Peep. You know, sugar-coated but nothin' but fluff on
    the inside? Robin's supposed to be this great detective, right?
    You'd think he'd be able to pick up on some things, like, oh - the
    fact that I've got a functional brain? I can't believe he thinks I
    don't know his real name. I didn't pick up on it the first time,
    when we were skiing, but jeez. It's not like there weren't enough
    hints.
    	We've been through enough stuff together that you'd think
    they'd trust me enough to tell me. Maybe Superboy's worried about
    his image. You know, all the girls and everything. Maybe Robin's
    worried about Batman finding out. I don't see why, though. I know
    things are different here from the way they are back where my Mom
    lives, I know people aren't as accepting, I know some of those
    religious groups would be all over it like the Science Police on a
    double-parked hovercar - but they can't be *that* different, can
    they?
    	There're precedents, right? I mean, you know...there're a
    whole buncha Titans that really could care less, it seems like. Go
    both ways and everything.
    	(People think I don't notice!)
    	Wally's friend the Piper's pretty obvious about it, but
    then, he used to be a supervillain, so I dunno, maybe they don't
    count him. Weren't there even people in the JLA who didn't make it
    a secret, or anything? Or am I thinking of a different team?
    Celebrities, too! There're lots of celebrities who don't think it
    should be a secret, lots of celebrities who're really open, and
    these media people, they eat it up. It's great, they keep saying.
    And it is! I just don't see why it's such a big deal.
    	And they're making like it's a really big deal, but it
    shouldn't be.
    	They should trust me, they should tell me. I wish they
    would. It's not like I don't know, but it's the principle of the
    thing. I'm their friend.
    	Maybe it's like the whole secret identity thing. Gramma
    Iris told me that she knew Grampa Barry was the Flash a whole year
    before he finally trusted her enough to tell her, even though she
    said it wasn't just trust, it was some stupid other things too,
    that really didn't make any sense. I think maybe he just liked
    having a secret.
    	Maybe that's what it is with Superboy and Robin, you know?
    Maybe they just like having a secret - but it still hurts. It
    still feels like they don't trust me. Do they think I'm gonna go
    running to Cassie, or Empress? Do they think I'd make fun of them?
    	Or do they think I'm too young to know any better?
    	Do they think I'd think any less of them?
    	Don't they know that it doesn't *matter*, where I grew up?
    	I guess not. I never told them.
    	Maybe I should.
    
    --------
    
    	"Where is he, upstairs?"
    	"Why are you always talking about -him- when you're with
    me, Rob?"
    	"I'm just worried. I mean - oh, god, do that some more..."
    	A dark silence with a mentally audible grin, and the soft
    sound of flesh on flesh.
    	"You're worried? How can you be worried? Come on, he's a
    kid."
    	"No, he picks things up. He's incredibly bright. People
    don't give him credit, but it's true, he's really bright, just
    distracted. Like ADD but at superspeed."
    	"Too much talk, not enough nookie! Shut up and kiss m--"
    	Some more dark silence, some more quiet movement. A soft
    snicker, and then a disapproving sort of sound. "Definitely not
    enough kissage, there. Come back here, you--"
    	"No, really. Come on, Kon. Listen to me, will you? Bart's
    gonna figure it out."
    	"Jesus, Rob. He doesn't know anything about sex. Look at
    him, he's what, a three year old in the body of a sixteen year
    old?"
    	"Four. And seventeen. And he sure didn't talk like a baby
    when we first met him. I swear, he's gonna figure it out, and then
    what? Huh?"
    	An irritated silence, and then the sudden sound of someone
    sitting up and moving over.
    	"You know you totally ruined the mojo I had going there,
    right? Completely trashed it."
    	"Kon, this is a real issue. You know I...you know I really
    like this, right? I mean, you know I'd stop you if..."
    	"If what, Boy Wonder?"
    	"If I didn't like it. If I didn't like you."
    	"Like me."
    	"If I didn't *really* like you."
    	"...good enough. So this is an issue, huh?"
    	"This is an issue. I don't want to estrange Bart. He's our
    teammate, our friend. If he figures this out, and then thinks
    we're keeping *another* secret from him..."
    	"Hey, look, you're the one who hasn't told your real name
    yet. Great we know your face, but we still don't know your name."
    	"...yeah. I know. If it were my-"
    	"-your choice, you woulda told us. But it's not just your
    identity, it's Batman's. I know, I know. Blah blah blah yakkity
    schmackity. Sorry. Keep going."
    	Silence.
    	"You're not still mad about that, are you? It's really not
    my choice."
    	"God! No, I'm not mad. I was just making a point. Jesus."
    	"Fine, whatever. Anyway, if he thinks we're keeping things
    from him like that, he's gonna think we don't trust him. And then
    he's not gonna trust us. That's the way trust works, reciprocity."
    	"I trust you. I don't know your name but I trust you."
    	"You know everything *but* my name at this point."
    	"Hee. Yeah."
    	"But you see my point, don't you?"
    	"Yeah, I guess. *If* the little squirt could figure it
    out, which you know damn well he can't."
    	"Watch it, Superjerk. He's taller than I am."
    	"You know that's not what I meant."
    	"Yeah, I know. But come on, he probably already knows.
    He's probably moping upstairs. I bet you ten bucks he is."
    	"Not taking that, Target Boy. He's probably moping
    upstairs because his gameboy broke, or some shit like that."
    	"Kon..."
    	"All right. Fine! Fine. So whaddya wanna do, ask him to
    join in?"
    	"No! No, I just...I think we should tell him. Sure, sound
    him out first, you know...but I think we should tell him."
    	"Dammit, Robin. What if he flips and goes telling
    everyone?"
    	"What if he does?"
    	Silence. Definitely icy on one end.
    	"No, really, what if he does? You're the one who
    approached *me*. You're the one who started this all. You're the
    one who's all flexy-bendy, who doesn't care, who's
    free-as-the-wind-blows. Why should you give a fine fuck?"
    	"Oh my god. You just said fuck."
    	"Shut up, Kon! I mean it. I'm the one with something to
    lose, here. What if Batman finds out and freaks, or something?
    Where would that leave me, huh?"
    	"You didn't just say fuck, you said flexy-bendy. AND you
    said blows."
    	Again, silence. And then the sound of someone starting to
    put their clothes on.
    	"No, no, don't go. I'm sorry, Rob. I'm sorry. But listen
    to yourself - if you're worried about Batman finding out, why
    aren't you worried about telling Bart?"
    	"Because I don't think Bart would care, but I *do* think
    he'd care about it being a secret from him."
    	Then the silence was much softer, and the sound of the
    clothes stopped.
    	"All right. All right, you win. We'll tell him. We'll tell
    him *after*, okay?"
    	"...okay."
    	"C'mere, you."
    
    -----
    
    	Bart was leaning waaaaay back in his deskchair, playing a
    guitar that was hooked up to a tiny little amp, when they came in.
    	When they came in and abruptly stopped holding hands.
    	He looked at them, eyebrows up, and turned the volume down
    on his guitar. Then he lifted a hand to brush his hair back from
    his face, to get it out of his eyes. And then he waited.
    	Rob looked at Kon, and then Kon looked at Rob. They both
    looked back at Bart, and they both started to say something, and
    then stopped when they heard the other.
    	"Y'know," said Bart, sitting back again, looking back down
    at his guitar. Playing the first few bars of 'Faithless, the
    Wonderboy'. "Y'know, there's something I've been meaning to tell
    you."
    	"Really?" said Superboy immediately, taking a sort of
    abortive half-step forward. "Weird. There's something Robin wants
    to tell you."
    	"Kon! Don't interrupt him, jeez," said Robin, narrowly
    avoiding his facepalm being audible.
    	Ignoring this, squinting a little as he reached up to tune
    his low E, Bart continued. "I *am* from the thirtieth century.
    Originally, I mean. So like, don't be all thinking I'm all Bible
    Belt, just 'cause I live there." He quickly configured his
    fingers, made a chord. "No one cares much about, well, any of the
    stuff that makes a good scandal in this time period. I mean, when
    you're living in the same city, building - heck, the same
    apartment - as a buncha aliens who think just as well as you do
    but maybe look like monsters or geese or giant snakes, you really
    just don't *care*. About stuff."
    	Rob glared pointedly at Kon, who had the grace to look
    sheepish.
    	"So you, uh, know," said Kon.
    	"Yeah," said Bart, looking up again.
    	"And you don't care," said Robin.
    	"Nope," said Bart, starting to play the song again, this
    time in tune.
    	"And you're not gonna tell anyone?"
    	"Well, since it's a big deal, OBVIOUSLY, to you two, no, I
    won't. I'm good at keeping secrets. Even at keeping secret
    identities. Just not my own, and probably only 'cause I really
    think it's pointless," Bart informed them. He looked back at his
    guitar, then sighed, and finally put it down. He was already
    thinking about something else - actually, about the twentieth
    something that'd crossed his mind since he finished his first
    point - wondering when he'd be able to play the guitar to his
    cousin's sax again.
    	"Oh. Um, good to know," said Kon, scratching the back of
    his neck, looking anywhere but Bart or Robin.
    	"Sorry, Bart," said Robin softly. "When'd you figure it
    out? Out of curiosity."
    	"Eh, a while ago," was Bart's careless answer. "I don't
    remember. But anyway, don't sweat it, okay?"
    	"Um," said Kon, at a loss. "Okay. So uh, when'd you learn
    to play guitar? Never thought you'd have the patience for
    something like that."
    	"Couple years ago. You know that Legion girl you had a
    jones for, last year or something? Triad? My cousin Jenni's her
    teammate. She was back here for a while - same time as when Johnny
    Quick died - and came to my school for a bit. We played for a
    dance there." Bart was putting things away. Hinting. Great they
    finally trusted him. But they were still being awkward, they
    probably wanted to go off and talk about him, but didn't know how
    to leave and not be rude. Pull a line. Put them back at ease.  
    "They gave us free food for playing, it was cool."
    	Still, this awkward silence, not knowing quite what to
    say. Maybe Kon was finally realizing what you get when you've got
    a kid with the world's objectively shortest attention span who
    also has superspeed? Superfast perceptions? Realizing you get a
    kid who has all the time in the world.
    	"I gotta go see what my, um, friend - my - what Carol's
    doin'," said Bart finally, with a lopsided grin. "Promised to meet
    her this afternoon. I'll seeya later, okay? Just don't be, you
    know, don't be weird about any of this. I'm your friend, I don't
    care, okay?"
    	"I'm your friend."
    	And with that, he was gone, papers fluttering in his wake.
    


End file.
